


Dog Days

by Blunette (Hoshikuzu_san)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blowjobs, Come Kink, Foreplay, Frottage, Harry likes Draco's arse, M/M, PWP, Switching, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 16:01:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hoshikuzu_san/pseuds/Blunette
Summary: Potter says you can't shag without havingfeelings, and Draco sets out to prove him wrong. Unbeknownst to himself, he's being the one proven wrong.Or, it's hot as hell, and they've nothing better to do.





	Dog Days

**Author's Note:**

> I... don't know. Enjoy.

“Ron and Hermione have been acting strange,” Potter blurted randomly.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed. He was too damn hot to try and figure out what the twat was going on about this time. 

It was one of those days when the humidity stuck around in the air, weighing down on any unsuspecting victims and refusing to let any of the sweat it induced actually do any good like, for example, catch a bloody breeze. Nope—instead, it simply left one sticky and uncomfortable, and without the energy to get up and do something about it.

It was Summer Break. Obviously, there hadn’t been any classes, so obviously, Draco hadn’t bothered to put on his school robes. He’d simply decided to stay in the Eighth Year dorms and brood, because it wasn’t as if he had any friends to go to out with—Potter just wouldn’t leave him alone—or family he was eager to return to.

So they were laying on the common room floor, staring at the ceiling, because everyone else was either home for their break, or out living scintillating lives elsewhere in the castle. Perhaps in Hogsmeade?

Draco grunted when he felt a slight kick to his knee.

“Did you hear me?” Potter asked, blinking at him behind his fogged glasses.

“Why should I care what Weasley or Granger are doing?” he sniffed.

“Because the other day, I saw them-” Potter abruptly snapped his jaw shut.

Draco couldn’t help his curiosity being piqued. Glancing over to the other teen, he was surprised to find a bright red face glaring at the ceiling.

“Saw them what?” he asked before he could stop himself. 

Potter glanced at him, face darkening in color. “They were... like...  _ really  _ close, and... whispering to each other.”

Draco snorted, shutting his eyes and turning his head back to the ceiling. 

“I’m serious! I think they were...  _ flirting _ ,” Potter whispered the last word, as if it were taboo.

“Okay,” Draco said simply. 

He was kicked in the knee again. 

Hard. 

“What the fuck?” he hissed.

“How can you just say ‘okay’ like this isn’t a big deal? I’m talking about  _ Ron  _ and  _ Hermione _ ! I mean, they  _ hate  _ each other! Well,” Potter amended, “they fight a lot, anyway.”

“They obviously don’t hate each other as much as you thought,” Draco huffed. “Or, for all you know, they could just be shagging.”

“ _ Just _ be?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Of course, you uneducated troll. You don’t have to be in love with someone to fool around with them.”

“Of course you do!” Potter replied vehemently, as if personally offended by such a suggestion. “I could only,” he flushed again, “er, ‘fool around’ with someone I  _ liked _ , you know?”

Draco shut his eyes, sighing. Why did he even bother? It seemed everything in his life simply wanted to remind him that Potter didn’t, and never would find him appealing. They had the entire dorm to themselves _and_ an actual excuse to strip down, and yet, they were gossiping about Potter’s _friends’_ sex lives.

“You don’t have to like someone to be sexually attracted to them,” Draco replied belatedly, anyway. As if trying to explain himself to Potter subtly, because even  _ he _ didn’t know why he found the speccy eyed git attractive.

“Yeah, you do,” Potter insisted.

“Are you a virgin, Potter?”

Potter flushed even brighter than before.

Draco vaguely wondered how healthy that was, heating even further when already in a sickeningly hot room, but the thought filtered away along with his annoyance. He was just bored. And hot. For all the wrong reasons.

Draco rolled his eyes back to the ceiling. “I’ll take your silence as a yes. That being said—rather, left  _ un _ said _ — _ I think we can agree that you’re not really the expert on sex or how it works, are you. And even if you had popped your cherry-”

Potter, mortified, opened his mouth to say something, but Draco cut him off smoothly.

“-or whatever  _ other  _ vulgar euphemism you wish to use to imply your deflowering—your opinion on the matter still wouldn’t mean hippogriff shit, considering your personal tastes have nothing to do with the rest of the population.”

Potter looked huffy about being cut off, but to his credit, he seemed to contemplate this.

And then, slowly, he lowered himself once more so they were both, once again, on their backs, watching the ceiling.

Then, a soft mumble, “It’s not by choice, you know.”

Draco drowsily opened his eyes. “Mm?”

“My, erm, deflowering, or whatever you called it,” Potter snapped, undoubtedly attempting to mask his humiliation with aggression. Too bad for him, Draco did that often enough himself to see right through it. “It’s not because I don’t  _ want  _ to, you know, it’s because no one’s...  _ you know _ .”

Draco, blinking away any grogginess, propped himself up on his arms to look down at his quasi-friend.

“No, I don’t know. What?”

Potter’s face was doing a rather admirable job imitating a tomato’s rear end, but, ever the Gryffindor, the Savior persevered. “No one wants to fool around with me because I’m  _ me _ . The love confessions are nice, but I couldn’t just,  _ you know _ , without it making the papers, or more being expected from me than just a one-off. I don’t want to be  _ that guy _ , but I’m just a normal bloke,” Potter insisted. “I have needs just like any other guy. I just don’t get to  _ act  _ on them like any other guy.” Potter, abruptly, paled. “What if I stay a virgin until I marry?”

Draco barked out a laugh. “That isn’t a bad thing. Loads of people wait until marriage-”

“But it’s not by  _ choice _ ,” Potter stressed.

Draco shrugged at him, even if every part of his body was screaming  _ I’d gladly be a one-off _ , because his brain, on the other hand, knew he wanted a little more than that. Okay, a lot more than that. 

Just like all of Potter’s  _ other  _ pathetic fans.

When he refocused, Potter was peering at him shyly, and Draco’s attention zeroed in on this moment, on this situation, because there’s no way he was reading this right.

Potter’s cheeks, which had only just cooled down, began to heat again. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “I should be asking you that, Potter.”

Potter bit his lip, and when Draco’s eyes watched the movement predatorily, Potter stopped and gulped.

“I just... I mean... You’re gay, right?”

Draco shut his eyes momentarily, wondering if this was actually happening. When he opened them again, he resolutely stared at Potter’s shoulder in an attempt to regain control of himself.

“Does that matter, Mr. You Need To Love To Shag?”

Potter scowled, but his uncharacteristically rosy complexion spoke wonders. Especially when he relented with an awkward, “But  _ you  _ don’t think that... And I don’t  _ really  _ know, because I’m,  _ you know _ . So maybe we could just... try it?”

Draco slowly crept over, keeping eye contact the entire time, before he swung one of his legs over Potter’s hips.

Potter worried his lip between his teeth again.

“Malfoy?” he whispered nervously. “Wait, I-”

Draco didn’t wait for him to finish, leaning forward and pressing their lips together. Potter struggled for a second, and when Draco snorted at the pathetic excuse of an attempt, then more enthusiastically, bucking and shoving at the blond’s chest, but Draco nipped, sucked, and licked until Potter was opening up. And, when his tongue plunged inside, enticing the other to play, it was only a few minutes before Potter was a moaning mess. 

Draco began a slow, sensual grind, and when Potter’s hands instinctively flew down to rest on his hips, Draco used his own hands to tug at Potter’s messy hair. When they separated for breath, Draco ignored Potter’s advance in favor of licking along the shell of a tan ear, nibbling his way further down until he was sucking harshly on the juncture where Potter’s neck met his shoulders.

Their thrusting was growing hasty, and Potter impatiently yanked him back up to sloppily snog him again. There was a growl and a groan and when Draco felt the Gryffindor’s hands slip from his hips to knead his ass, he bit back a sound of pleasure and pulled himself up.

He stared down into hazy green eyes, admiring the askewed glasses and the crumpled shirt and the insistent hardness pressing against his own.

_ I did this _ , he thought, then smirked darkly.

“Still think you have to be in love with someone to fool around with them?”

Draco forced himself up, straightened himself out, then left a confused Gryffindor to lie alone on his living room floor. He was more determined to prove his point than ruin any possibility of ever living a fulfilling life without Potter, after all.

He smiled a little at Potter’s loud, frustrated cry when he left the room.

* * *

The next day was just as unbearably hot as the day before, but even worse, Draco was wasting it (because, obviously, he had a lot of stuff planned) with the Golden Trio.

“Come on, Malfoy, just come to the beach with us,” Granger implored, but the exasperated tone left some to be desired.

Draco sniffed, crossing his arms. “And why ever would I willingly subject myself to not only baking on the bloody beach, but also to doing so in your presences?”

Weasley blatantly rolled his eyes. “Even I'll admit that you're practically one of us now, Malfoy.”

Draco turned a bit green at that declaration, but Weasley continued on.

“You're going to see us before and after we go, anyway. Might as well just make a day of it and come with.”

Potter stared at him crossly, but didn't attempt to dissuade his friends.

Draco realized that going to the beach would also mean getting to see Potter in his swimming trunks. Maybe even in less, if he flicked his wand inconspicuously enough.

_ And _ him being there would  _ annoy  _ Potter.

What more could a bloke really ask for?

“Alright, fine,” he conceded with as much reluctance as he could muster. Which, being the dramatic arse Slytherin he was, was a lot.

If any of the trio were surprised by his acceptance, none of them seemed it.

“Alright,” Granger said simply. “Everyone go pack a bag! Don't forget beach towels, sun block, sunglasses, sun hats-"

"We get it," Potter groaned, and Draco inwardly nodded. The message had been heard loud and clear.

_The sun_ _was going to be the death of them._

However, Draco still packed all of her requirements. He grabbed his sandals, sunglasses, and sunblock. If he didn't reapply it every hour, he'd burn to a crisp, but bringing his umbrella would help. He also transfigured one of his drapes into a temporary towel with mobile tropical fish on it, because he was just that extra.

He shoved all of this in a bag (save for the sunglasses and sandals, which he adorned) and headed back out to meet with the others.

Surprisingly, he was the last one to show up, and pretended it was because he hadn't wanted to come at all, instead of admitting he'd probably taken too long before deciding on some azure swim trunks that he knew complimented his arse. Not that Draco was trying to impress anyone, but if he was going to mope around at the beach, he might as well look good while doing it.

Soon after he arrived, they head off, apparating—as Eighth Years, like the Professors, they were allowed to do that now—to the nearest beach and deciding on a spot near the treeline. As Draco put down his beach towel and set up his umbrella, Granger, Weasley, and Potter all made their way down towards the water. They looked excited, and Potter in particular looked rather fetching in his green trunks, the way they hung low on his slim hips, the dark rim drawing attention to the black curls trailing beneath his navel.

Draco shook his head before he seated himself on his towel. His navy umbrella shaded him wonderfully, and luckily enough, the squeals of surrounding wizards were easily drowned out by the sound of the ocean. So well, in fact, that Draco found himself pulling out that book he'd begun reading the other day, after the whole Potter-fiasco.

He'd only read about twenty pages before drops of water splashed on him.

Scowling and looking above his book, he found himself glaring into amused green eyes.

"We're at the beach, and you're reading?"

"I don't want to swim," he dismissed.

Of course, Potter didn't take the cue to leave.

"You could play beach ball? Sun tan? Build a sand castle, or something?"

"Or, I could read." Draco narrowed his eyes.

"What's it about?" Potter inquired nosily, sitting down next to him on  _ Draco's  _ beach towel.

"You're cold, twit," Draco hissed when one of Potter's wet arms brushed against his own. "And I'm reading about the terrible effects agricultural farming has on the environment."

"You're so  _ boring _ ," Potter accused, looking genuinely insulted by this fact.

"I find fun things to do at home, alone," Draco muttered as he continued reading. When he felt eyes on him, he looked up to see Potter eyeing him in a way that made him hot and bothered below the belt.

He wondered why he was being blessed with such a look, until he recalled his previous comment.

"Oh, did you think I meant something perverse?" He smirked when Potter sputtered.

"Wha—no!"

"Like yesterday?" His smirk widened.

"Yesterday was..." Potter trailed off, but his face didn't imply he was going to end it with anything Draco wanted to hear.

"If you say a fluke, so help me I will prove you wrong  _ again _ ."

Potter’s eyes sparkled competitively. “Yeah?”

Draco stood, grabbed his hand, and stalked into the woods surrounding the beach.

"Where are we going?"

But Draco kept dragging him, and when he deemed them a far enough distance away that they wouldn't be spotted, he attacked. Silent, like a predator, Draco spun on the balls of his feet and pinned the Gryffindor to a tree.

"Malfoy, what-"

Draco smirked dangerously as he began palming Potter's cock through his soggy swim trunks, smirk widening when Potter went from anxious to horny in about a second flat.

Potter moaned and thrust into the touch as Draco leaned forward to nibble at the exposed collar bone.

"You taste like the ocean," he murmured, licking the salt from Potter's skin. 

Said teen made a noise akin to the keening of an animal before grabbing Draco by the hips, pulling the blond forward until they were pressed flush against each other. He captured Draco's lips in a searing kiss as they began a rough grind.

Draco used a lot of teeth, just to be difficult.

Potter seemed to be enjoying it, though, because he moaned and ran his hands appreciatively down the pale chest. They traveled further and around until they slid into place on Draco's arse.

Draco tugged on Potter's bottom lip with his teeth as he drew away.

"What?" Potter asked huskily, panting and hazy eyed.

Draco bit his lip and groaned, both from their frotting and resisting the urge to take things further.

Potter's eyes were on his mouth when he dove back in and recaptured Draco’s mouth, muttering between his kisses, “Fuck, that's hot.”

“I'll say,” Draco laughed breathlessly, pushing Potter away half-heartedly as the other began nipping at his jaw and nuzzling his nose into silvery hair. The further Draco leaned back, the more Potter leaned forward and the closer he forced their hips—courtesy of his hands roughly massaging Draco’s arse, of course.

"I'm not Ginevra Weasley," Draco panted.

Potter paused in his groping and sucking, but his lips remained pressed to Draco’s fluttering pulse.

“I noticed, yes.”

Draco snorted, but the realization that Potter, inexperienced Harry, really  _ wanted  _ him, delighted him too much to stop his smile.

“You loved her, yes? Does she turn you on?”

Potter leaned back, looking at him with a slightly uncomfortable look on his face.

“And you don't love me,” Draco clarified.

Potter frowned. “What? No.”

That hurt, but Draco forced a smirk anyway. The only reason he was able to was because at least, after having gotten this far, there was a chance Potter could maybe, just maybe,  _ develop  _ feelings for him.

“So you admit that I'm right,” Draco concluded.

Potter blinked, puzzled, before he flushed with what Draco could only distinguish as a mixture of anger and humiliation.

“This is still about you trying to prove some point?”

Draco stared at him before, just once, rocking against Potter.

“Not entirely,” he said, and his erection said the same.

Potter indecisively opened his mouth, only to close it and lean forward again, but this time, Draco shied away from touch, and when Potter, confused, tried to maneuver him, Draco detangled himself from Potter’s arms entirely.

“Malfoy, wait,” Potter called.

Draco blew him off, waving disinterestedly over his shoulder as he made his way back towards the beach, knowing fully well that Potter's eyes flickered to his arse.

He was glad he'd chosen the azure swim trunks.

* * *

Draco heard a loud knock in his door.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand, he strode towards his dorm room door in loose sweatpants and a white t-shirt. It hadn't been unbearably hot that day, which was celebratory in itself, but Draco didn't have anyone to celebrate with, so he'd decided to clean, instead.

All Eighth Years, being eighteen and ‘at that age’ and all, were given their own dorm rooms, two people per room. Theodore Nott was home with his loving, sane family for Summer Break, leaving Draco to it for himself.

Opening the door, Draco raised an eyebrow when he found Potter.

"Can I help you?" he asked after watching the Gryffindor awkwardly shuffle his feet a few times.

"I, uh, yeah. Hermione said to give you this?" He held up a bag.

Draco took it gingerly and, when he peered inside, found a couple sea shells. So Granger had seen him sneak a few into his bag, had she? Draco didn't mind her sneakily watching him, he supposed, because the shells Granger sent were definitely very beautiful—they would be a nice addition to his collection—and he was relatively sure her intentions were, despite his outward skepticism towards the trio, innocent and genuine.

"Give Granger my thanks," Draco said simply before turning to close the door.

"Wait, Mal-Draco, I want to talk to you!" Potter blurted just before the door shut. 

Hesitating, because Draco wasn't sure how much he liked all the possible outcomes of this encounter, he decided to let it be. It didn't have anything to do with Potter calling him by his first name, of course, and who called someone they had plans of rejecting by their first name when they’d never done so before, right? Right?

Leaving the door open, Draco began making his way towards his desk for a seat. He heard the door close behind them, and the tell-tale sound of feet echoing after his.

He didn't make it to his desk, though, because Potter suddenly pinned him to a wall and roughly pressed against him. His breathing was loud and his eyes were smoldering. Draco's heart picked up at the look, because it was the same look Potter had given him at the beach.

"Potter?" he asked, forcing his voice to stay unaffected and in control.

"What are you doing to me, Draco?" Potter asked breathily, looking almost pained. He pressed their hips together, letting Draco feel exactly how aroused he was. "Whenever I'm with you, I can't—I can't control myself."

"Like I said," Draco mumbled against his lips, so close were they pressed. He looked Potter daringly in the eye, "You don't need to love someone to get aroused by them."

"You don't get it." Potter shook his head feverishly, pressing against Draco harder and releasing little sounds of need as they rolled their hips. "Whenever I'm around you, my heart picks up, but not like how it had been with Cho, or with Ginny. With you, I just wanna fight. Like adrenaline, or something, but  _ all the time _ , and I can't think straight, I just want to fight. I want punch that fucking arrogant look off your face, and show you you're not as untouchable as you think you are. And I think it's just anger, but when you look at me like this, like I'm the only one who can make you feel this, it's just like when I want to fight, but not, because I—I want to  _ dominate  _ you," he snarled, "make you  _ submit _ , and,  _ fuck _ —I, this isn't normal _.  _ I don't feel this out of control around anyone else _. _ "

Draco didn't hold back a moan when Potter harshly nipped at his throat, his cock impossibly hard as Potter growled his desires into his ear. It aroused him to know how he affected Potter, that he wasn't the only one who couldn't seem to keep his hands off.

"Sounds like I excite you," he purred in the Gryffindor's ear, smirking when he felt the other shiver against him.

"Your voice is so hot," he groaned against Draco's neck, sucking on the pale skin hard enough to leave marks. Many, many marks. His mouth was like a suction, hot and harsh.

"Are you marking me?" he asked, half amused and half too horny to care. He wanted more than Potter's mouth. He also wanted the Gryffindor's hands on him, his eyes on him, all his attention on Draco, because didn't sound like lust, but infatuation. Maybe something that could, in time, turn from slightly creepy into something more romantic.

But right now, they were just confused, horny teenagers.

Potter laughed in a way that made the blond hot and cold at the same time. It was a predatory sound, dangerous and low.

"I want to mark you so fucking  _ hard _ ," he growled, making little thrusting motions with his hips.

Draco opened his mouth to tell the Gryffindor just how welcome such an act would be, when there was a loud pounding on his door.

"Who is it now?" he hissed while pushing Potter away.

"What?  _ Draco _ ! You can't just-!"

"No one would come unless it's an emergency," he explained, more than a little pissed, himself. Masturbating every night when he had Potter  _ right there  _ was irritating beyond belief.

"But-" Potter cried as Draco strode briskly down the hallway, "your arse!"

Draco rolled his eyes. Yes, Potter hadn't gotten the chance to grab his arse this time.

"Rain check," he called back as he approached the door, his flagging arousal evident even by his baggy sweatpants. A flick of his wand and a wince later, nothing was amiss.

Draco threw the door open with a glare already in place. “Yes?” he asked, quite peevishly.

The poor Third Year trembled where she stood. “P-p-Professor McGonagall a-asked me to t-tell all remaining Eighth Y-years that there's a m-m-meeting in the G-great hall-”

Draco nodded at her in thanks before slamming the door shut.

“Potter, we've a meeting, it seems,” he drawled.

Potter looked pissed, but it was with a tight jaw and clenched fists that he nodded tersely.

“I'll walk with you?” he managed to grit out.

Draco fluttered his eyelashes. “Careful there, Potter. Someone might get the idea that we're dating.”

Potter glanced at him before rolling his eyes, seeming to have noticed the blond was only joking.

“Come on, you tease,” he muttered, pushing Draco out of the dorm room.

Draco frowned, a little indignant. “How am I a tease? I didn't expect anyone to interrupt-”

“And the other times?” Potter asked blandly.

“I was making a statement,” Draco sniffed. “I like grand gestures, see.”

Potter rolled his eyes again. “I'll keep that in mind.”

With a smirk, Draco transfigured his clothes temporarily into school robes as they descended the stairs.

* * *

Draco stifled a moan.

And Potter had called  _ him _ a tease?

The meeting was a unique kind of torture. As McGonagall droned on about how  _ interested  _ she was in how the Eighth Years were doing, and how  _ splendid  _ it was that so few remained during Summer Break, so she could meet with a much smaller group and get their feedback, Potter seemed to have grown impatient. Tten minutes in, he shuffled his seat closer to Draco’s and rested a hand on his thigh beneath the table.

Draco hadn't reacted, knowing McGonagall could see their faces from where she stood, but when the hand boldly slid to his groin and  _ squeezed _ , Draco nearly bit through his tongue in shock.

He pushed Potter’s hand away and crossed his legs, but then Potter settled with caressing his legs and knees, and that shouldn't be as arousing as it was, considering they weren't even an erogenous zone, but it seemed everything Potter did tempted him.

Half an hour in, and Draco was just as randy as his counterpart, and when he experimentally slid his hand over and cupped Potter's erection, he was met with no resistance. Draco could admit, he was duly impressed by Potter’s expression of rapt attention to every word that fell from McGonagall’s lips while, beneath the table, his hips thrusted with rhythm.

“Any questions?” McGonagall asked. “This Eighth Year is the first of its kind, so if anyone feels unjustly restricted by the rules of minors-”

“I think you've been doing well,” Potter interrupted, expression either earnest or simply strained. “You're a wonderful Headmaster, er, Headmistress McGonagall.”

McGonagall fairly preened, and as soon as she dismissed them, Potter grabbed Draco by the arm and Side-Alonged him.

Draco reappeared in his dorm with a startled gasp, which is all he got out before Potter was on him with a snarl, ripping at his makeshift robes and sticking his hot hands against the blond’s feverish skin.

Draco moaned, canting his hips forward as his own hands made quick work of Potter’s clothes. 

Draco found it in him to snort, “I’ve always liked pushing your buttons,” as he undid several.

Potter smiled at him before leaning in and kissing along Draco’s jaw. Biting his lip to muffle another moan, his head fuzzy and his vision swimming, Draco just found it in him to slowly back them towards a wall, where he pressed against Potter and began a slow, sensual rocking of their bodies.

“The bed’s right over there,” Potter gasped between nips and licks.

“Here’s fine,” Draco mumbled between nibbles along Potter’s newly exposed shoulder as he yanked at the Golden Boy’s undershirt.

“For my first time, I want to use a bed,” Potter insisted.

Draco paused in his pursuits, and Potter did the same.

They were still pressed together like puzzle pieces, their cocks aligned, Draco’s nose in the crook of Potter’s neck, Potter’s hands in Draco’s hair.

“You want to go all the way?” Draco asked hoarsely. He wondered if Potter could feel him practically begin to vibrate.

“Doing anything, really, would be more sexual experience than I’ve had to this point,” Potter admitted shyly.

Draco snapped his head up to gape at him. “What?” he asked, incredulous. “Surely you’ve done  _ something _ .”

Potter flushed, looking a little insulted. “I told you I was a virgin, didn’t I?”

“Well, yes, but I assumed you meant anally.”

Potter flushed harder. “Well, no,” he huffed, “I meant  _ completely _ . I’ve  _ masturabted _ , of course, I’m not a bloody saint, but I... Never, with someone...”

“And you want me to be your first?” Draco asked, peering at him with bright, open eyes. “You’ll allow me that?”

Potter stared back at him with wide, deep eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked softly. 

Draco couldn’t help the slow smile that spread, provocative and languid across his features. “I’m honored,” he admitted.

Potter made a strangled noise in his throat before ducking his head shyly.

Draco watched the very tips of Potter’s ears turn red from the recesses of his wild black hair. Then, he slowly, slowly, reached around the stockier male to circle his arm around him, gently tugging a flustered Potter against him.

He caressed the hair at Potter’s nape, and rested his chin on the other’s head.

Potter’s arms, after but a moment, went around his waist, removing any and all space between their nearly nude bodies, but it wasn’t a sexual action. It was reassurance. It was unspoken promises. It was  _ something _ .

“This doesn’t have to be  _ just shagging _ , if you don’t want it to be,” Draco said slowly.

Potter stiffened against him.

“I can make it... special,” Draco offered awkwardly. That wasn’t what he meant. He’d meant that they could take their relationship further on more than a physical level, but the way Potter froze up, the way Potter was nervous, and how Draco knew Potter was prone to saying hurtful things when he was scared... Draco offered this, instead.

“How so?” Potter asked against the milky skin of Draco's shoulder. He traced the blond’s jawline with his nose, and the hot breath from his nostrils tickled.

“I can romance you, if you’d like,” Draco offered.

Potter shook against him, laughing silently. “And why would you do that?” he asked.

“Because I want to,” Draco admitted nervously, feeling a little flustered himself. _ I’ve wanted to for a while, but never had the chance. _

Potter laughed again, but this time, he stepped back from the Slytherin to regard him with dancing eyes.

“Are we talking candles and rose petals, Draco?”

_ Draco _ .

Draco flushed bright red, and Potter stared at him in awe.

“That makes you blush?” he asked. “Me calling you-”

Draco slapped a hand over Potter’s mouth frantically, eyes wide with horror. “Don’t you fucking dare, Potter. I will come on the spot if you do.”

Potter’s pupils were blown. “But if we’re lovemaking,” Potter began candidly, making Draco sputter a bit, “shouldn’t you call me Harry?”

Draco’s lips quirked up at the corner. “Is that what  _ you  _ want?” he asked.

Potter tugged Draco against him again, tilting his head up a bit to stare daringly into sparkling gray eyes. “Very much so.” He grinned wolfishly.

Pushing Potter—no, Harry—away gently, Draco rediscovered his wand and gave it a few flicks. Candles appeared, lit, and the natural lighting of the room dimmed to a moonlit night, save for the glowing wicks. Red rose petals lead a trail towards the bed, which was lavish with them. The silken black sheets created a breathtaking juxtaposition with the scarlet. Or perhaps it was simply the fact that this was the bed they planning to make love upon.

Draco couldn’t help his snort. “You’re so gay, Potter.”

“Harry,” Harry corrected, but he was smiling. “I think it’s nice. Like I always imagined,” he said, taking Draco’s hand and leading them towards the bed.

Draco raised an eyebrow, allowing himself to be led while he asked, “You always imagined shagging me in a candlelit room beneath false moonlight?”

Potter barked out a laugh at that. “More like, I imagined the candles and moonlight and flowers. You’re a pleasant addition.”

“Well, if I’m  _ pleasant _ ,” Draco drawled, but when Potter send him a look from lowered eyelids, all snarky pretenses fell with his pants.

Potter eyed him appreciatively—a little red in the face, yes, but he seemed too distracted to sputter—before doing the same. Then they climbed onto the bed, and while Draco attempted to crawl over to him, his wrist slid on the silk sheet, and then on the petals, and he found himself wincing as his chin hit the mattress and his arse remained erect.

Potter laughed. “Eager, are we?”

Draco pushed himself back up to his hands, but Potter, with a grin, yanked on the sheets again, and before Draco could really catch his balance, he was sliding forward once more.

With a growl, Draco grabbed Potter’s naked ankle and yanked, smirking triumphantly at Potter’s startled squawk.

He then lifted his leg and swung it possessively over the back of Potter’s legs, where he sat, and pressed himself against the swells of Potter’s arse.

Potter made a noise a mix between a moan and grunt before jerking around and forcing Draco—with a startled yell of his own—on his back. Potter scrambled on top of him with a victorious smirk.

He pressed their pricks together again, hissing a bit as his erection was stimulated by another, skin directly on skin, Potter’s hand fisting them both.

Draco moaned, lifting an arm and draping it over his eyes. His skin felt hot to the touch, and as he gyrated his hips, spreading his legs so Potter could situate himself more comfortably between them, he bit his lip and arched. Fuck, he was ready.

About to suggest they get to the meat of the matter, Draco lifted his arm and opened his mouth. He paused at Potter’s expression of pure, unadulterated want.

Draco didn’t ask. He leaned up and crushed their mouths together in a harsh snog, all teeth and tongue and a little lip, too.

“Do you want to-?”

“I don’t think I can last long enough-”

“But you’ve yanked yourself off before-”

“Of course!”

“Okay, then let me try something new,” Draco murmured, pulling Potter’s hands away and readjusting their positions until he could pant over Potter’s prick.

Potter moaned at just that slight contact. “You’re going to—? Merlin,” he hissed when Draco spread his lips.

Draco wasn’t as much of a slag as he came off as with all his teasing of Potter. He wasn’t a virgin, but he wasn’t much less, really, considering his sexual pursuits were few and far. But he did know how to do this.

And so he did.

When Potter was yanking at his hair, heralding his climax, Draco began to fist himself roughly, so close himself. He relented and pulled off when Potter’s voice raised to a humorous pitch in his urgency, but didn’t go much further. “I want you to come on my face,” Draco said.

“You—what— _ Merlin _ ,” Potter cried as he stiffened and came. Watching his face, the way those eyes fluttered shut, Draco was doing the same.

And then he leaned back and wiped half-heartedly at his face. He looked at the spunk on his fingers and, curiously, lapped some off. It wasn’t  _ good _ , but considering it just came from Potter’s cock, he found it pleasant in his own bizarre way.

He glanced up to find Potter staring at him with wide, blown eyes. “You’re hot,” Potter blurted.

Draco sent him a smile in response, and Potter stared at him with exasperation. Then, with a laborious sigh, as if it were a chore, grabbed Draco around the nape and pulled him forward to snog him again.

Draco pushed him away after more of this, lips feeling bruised and wonderfully pulsing in tempo with his heart.

“I could taste myself on you,” Potter murmured, looking dazed, still.

“Kinky,” Draco agreed, and then summoned his wand to cast a cleaning spell over the both of them and the bed. Afterwards, they rolled up beneath the covers which, after a few more minutes, returned to the original cotton linens.

“Not so bad?” Draco asked sleepily.

“T’was alright,” Potter mumbled, rubbing at his eyes.

Draco wondered belatedly where and when they had lost Potter’s glasses, but didn’t dwell on it. Instead, he tugged the other boy closer and pressed against him.

“It’s hot,” Potter complained.

“Pity,” Draco replied, but didn’t cease in wrapping himself around Potter like an octopus.

Potter, Harry sighed, but relaxed into the embrace.

And then they slept.

* * *

And then it was morning.

Draco awoke to the sound of birds chirping in the distance, warm sunlight upon his bare skin, and a tongue shoved abruptly in his ear.

Draco jerked up with a startled yelp, one hand flying up to slap against the side of his head, as if in an attempt to protect his ear canals from any further oral onslaught. “The hell?”

Potter shrugged, chin perched on his palm as he regarded the blond with bored eyes. “I was romancing you real nice, but you wouldn’t wake up, so I got inpatient.”

“With, what? The tips of your eyelashes? I didn’t feel a thing, you twat, and that is in  _ no way  _ a romantic way to wake someone up. A kiss wouldn’t have sufficed?”

“You’ve morning breath,” Potter said simply.

“A blowjob?” Draco tried, instead, exasperated.

Potter flushed a bit. “I didn’t want to violate you when you aren't awake.”

“Oh, no, you’re right, I much prefered the  _ tongue _ in my  _ ear _ .”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d react this badly,” Potter admitted.

Draco huffed a bit, but did remind himself to chill out. “I’m not upset, really, just startled. It didn’t hurt— _ could  _ have been kind of hot, even, but I slept so well last night that I woke up without really recognizing where I was.”

“Sorry,” Potter conceded sheepishly. “Next time I do that, I’ll make it ‘kind of hot’.”

Draco breathed in deeply, lungs heavy with sleep, watching Potter, and slowly reclined so that his crossed arms were beneath his chin. He knew the twisting of his body—hips towards Potter, chest on the bed—would flatter his figure.

“So there will be a next time?”

Potter was watching him. “I don’t know. Can there be?”

Draco peered at his from beneath his lashes. “I hope so,” he purred.

Harry snorted. “You think you’re cute, don’t you.”

Draco smirked lazily, taking another deep breath as he twisted his hips so he was entirely on his stomach. He stretched out languidly, stifling a yawn. “I’ll be the first to tell you,” he agreed, eyes fluttering shut. The morning light shining in from the window just above the bed warmed his skin pleasantly.

Draco merely hummed when he felt the bed shift, and grunted a bit in surprise when a weight settled across the backs of his legs.

He felt Potter rock forward into his cleft experimentally.

“What are you doing?” he asked sleepily.

“I don’t know,” Potter murmured quietly, rocking forward again, placing his hands beside Draco’s waist on the bed for support. “You did this to me yesterday for a moment,” he mumbled against the dip in the small of Draco’s back.

“And it felt nice?” Draco asked.

“Yes,” Potter breathed. “I thought I might like it even better against you.”

“Everything is better against me,” Draco agreed.

“I love your arse,” Potter explained, resting his forehead between Draco’s shoulders, just before his nape. “It should be criminal to have an arse this hot.” He thrusted again, and Draco could feel Potter’s prick thickening with arousal.

Draco didn’t bother stifling a moan as he spread his legs more, dragging his hips back to give Harry a better view of his bum, bared and poised. He bit his lip as the action dragged the rough bed sheets against his own slowly awakening member.

Potter groaned, grabbing the heady globes of Draco’s arse and squeezing them together, roughly fucking through them, the tip of his penis occasionally dragging against Draco’s puckered opening.

Draco arched further, like a bow being drawn, wanting more friction against said opening, gasping and flushing with pleasure when Potter began a familiar kneading motion as he thrusted, accompanied by his little grunts and throaty moans.

Draco reached beneath himself to grip his length, fondling it clumsily as he struggled for space.

“Are you—Merlin, I want to see you,” Potter let out in a rush, clambering off.

Draco released a sound of objection but did, however, begin to rise, though he only made it so far. He was on his knees, one elbow against the bed and bracing his head while his other hand pulled himself furiously. From this angle, he could watch himself, and the blood rushing simultaneously to his head and prick was an interesting sensation, but dizzying. He flipped on his back, groaning with relief as he spread his legs once more, arched his hips up to fuck the canal of his hands.

He opened his eyes, seeking Potter, and found the flushed Gryffindor wanking himself to Draco.

The blond bit his lip, knowing how Potter liked that, and arched his hips, just to show off his shape, arched his back, putting himself on display, knowing he was wanted, that Potter liked this.

It drove Potter wild. He was on Draco in less than a second, mounting him like some wild thing and rutting against him obscenely as he leaned over the blond, using both hands to tug Draco’s face closer. He plunged his tongue in the blond’s mouth, the sour taste of sleep be damned, and he moaned when Draco slung a leg around him, pulling their hips closer.

“Yes,” Potter hissed feverently, “Yes, yes, mm, more,” one hands tangling in Draco’s hair while the other lifted to drag his blunt nails from Draco’s arse and up his thigh to his knee before sliding back down again and repeating the action. Potter liked the leg, apparently.

Draco liked everything. He liked Potter against him, liked Potter’s dark, intoxicating eyes. He liked Potter nipping at his lips, making them sting, and wondered whether Potter would bite him in other places, whether he knew that was okay.

Mostly, he liked that Potter was like this with him, and only him. That Potter was alright acting wild and insatiable around him, because he knew Draco wanted him just as bad. That he was Potter’s first, and soon to be his second, and Potter was confident and open and unafraid to ask for what he wanted with him.

Draco could feel the tightness in his bollocks, feel the end nearing.

He leaned towards Harry’s ear, whispering, “I’m close.”

Potter mumbled something incomprehensible, frotting sloppily before he too began to stiffen.

“Fuck, I’m-”

“Yes,” Draco panted, “yes, come for me, Harry, come all over me-”

“You’re so fucking kinky-”

“Come for me,” Draco repeated, needing it, and when Harry stiffened and cried out, his warm seed hitting Draco’s stomach, the blond tipped over the edge as well, coming with a long moan.

Harry panted harshly in his ear for a moment before rolling off of him.

Draco stared at the ceiling, sweaty and sated.

He watched quietly as Harry collected some of the spunk off his stomach, stared at it, and then looked at Draco curiously.

Draco didn’t need further encouragement to lean forward and take Harry’s fingers into his mouth.

“Kinky,” Harry said, watching him with fascination.

Draco shrugged, licking his lips as he pulled away. “I don’t mind being kinkier around you.”

Harry tilted his head. “Why’s that?” he asked.

Draco eyed him speculatively before replying, “You’re not afraid to take what you want from me, so I’ll be the same way.”

Potter flushed. “ _ Take  _ what I want-”

“I like it,” Draco said. “Makes me hard.”

Potter looked mortified. “How can you even say things like that with a straight face?” he asked, embarrassed.

Draco smiled at him. “Ready? We might be able to catch breakfast if we hurry. If you want to go down with me, anyway,” he offered casually, careful not to make eye contact as he summoned his wand and wordlessly cleaned them both with a spell.

When he finally did glance upwards, only briefly, Potter looked puzzled.

“We usually eat breakfast at the same time, anyway. I don’t see why it would be a problem to walk down together.”

Draco was both pleased and annoyed by that response, so he settled with a neutral nod as he climbed off the bed and began searching for some casual clothing to wear.

“You can borrow something of mine,” Draco offered, rooting through his closet, “or wear what you wore yesterday. You weren’t wearing them long.” He smirked at his own comment, and stiffened when he felt arms come around him from behind.

“Why aren’t you looking at me?” Harry asked his shoulder, planting a light kiss there.

Draco stared into the closet, wondering whether he should confess.

He blanched at the mere thought and covered it up with a smile as he turned around in Harry’s arms, wrapping his own arms around the Gryffindor as well. 

He kissed Potter briefly, but when he pulled away, he was still frowning slightly.

Draco kissed the space between his furrowed eyebrows, kissed his nose, his fluttering eyelids.

He might not get another chance, after all.

Harry was smiling when Draco pulled away again.

“I got a little shy,” Draco said, a small truth.

Harry looked shocked. “You? Shy? Around  _ me _ ? Why?”

Draco shrugged, glancing out the window. “Just yesterday you were telling me how you can only shag someone if you love them. Now, we’ve shagged twice, and there have been no hexes or discomfort. At least, on my end.”

Harry leaned in, running his nose along Draco’s jaw. “I’m still learning, but... I like this. It was fun, and enjoyable, and you aren’t going to go running to the Prophet at the next opportunity. I feel... calm. I trust you,” he admitted, turning a little pink.

Draco squinted at him. “And you’re sure it isn’t the early onset of romantic affection...?”

Potter, with a derisive snort, stepped away from him. “I don’t know, Malfoy, are you falling for me?” he teased, charming grin on his face.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Yes, Potter, that’s it. I’m in  _ love  _ with you. That’s why you inspire ire within me, and occasionally arousal if I can keep your mouth occupied long enough.”

Potter looked a mix between disgruntled and interested.

“Are you wearing that?” Draco asked, changing topics. This one hit too close to home.

Potter looked down at his clothes, as if seeing them for the first time. “Um, yeah. They’re only kind of wrinkled.”

Draco agreed, walking over wordlessly and pulling up Potter’s trousers before tugging down his top. He straightened the teen’s collar, and tied and tightened his perpetually loose Gryffindor tie.

He stepped back to admire his work, nodding once in approval before turning and reaching for his own new clothing, as he was still naked as the day he was born.

He didn’t manage to grab them, however, before Potter grabbed him by the elbow and spun him, giving him a rough, searing, stolen kiss before grinning sheepishly and leaving the room.

The door shut behind him quietly, and Draco stared after it longingly.

What had he done to himself?

* * *

This was bad.

Watching Potter from across the dorm room, watching each other like some kind of foreplay.

It was summer vacation, there were no classes to distract them from each other.

They had just had each other that morning, but with the way Potter was looking at him, Draco knew they would be at each other soon as well.

This was bad. 

How would be be expected to go on like everything was normal when school resumed? What if Potter wanted to keep shagging, and that was all? What if Potter eventually wanted someone to date, and left Draco for the wolves?

If anything, that only made him want Potter more, want Potter to want him, want Potter to have him, to be Potter’s first and second and tenth, to forever be his firsts. 

When Potter thought of sex, Draco wanted Potter to think of him. To think of him when he wanted, when he so much as thought of sex. He wanted to consume Potter’s mind like Potter was doing to himself.

It was embarrassing how much he wanted Potter infatuated with him, really, and he would probably be more concerned if Potter wasn't humoring his secret desires by being so horny all the time.

After a few more minutes of blatant staring, Potter stood and left the room. Draco was careful to give him a solid minute and twenty-two seconds before following. He just made it in the hallway before Potter was shoving m against the wall, pressing their mouths together. 

Draco hummed with pleasure, tangling his fingers in Potter’s hair as Potter began familiarly dragging his nails up Draco’s thigh. 

Needing no further reminder, Draco lifted his leg and wrapped it around Potter’s waist, tugging them closer at the hips as Draco slouched against the wall at his shoulders.

Potter leaned over him, kissing him soundly, mumbling something between kisses that sounded dangerously like promises.

“Now?” Draco asked, breathless.

Potter pressed his forehead to Draco’s, panting. “I want to.”

“Here?” Draco asked faintly, and Potter paused.

“Do you want to?”

“Someone could walk by.”

“Doesn't that make it a little more thrilling?” he asked, tilting his head, those green eyes so open, and suddenly Draco wanted to very badly.

He spun them, dropping his leg in order to press Potter to the wall as firmly as possible. He kissed down Harry’s jaw, nipped at his neck, wondering if it would be alright to leave any marks and deciding against it, despite Potter’s bucks of encouragement.

He reached between them, unzipping Potter before himself and swiftly taking both their erections in his hand, pressing them together heatedly.

Foreheads pressed together, both looked down at the connection, groaned, and looked at each other.

Potter bit his lip. “You're so hot,” he said.

“You're beautiful like this,” Draco agreed, kissing Potter’s sweaty forehead.

Potter was looking at him oddly, and Draco, wary that he was being too affectionate and giving himself away, decided to distract him.

He gave his wrist a rough twist, and Potter moaned, eyes fluttering shut.

Draco tugged them both off, crowding Potter into that corner, and they both came with a shudder and some sort of noise.

This time, it was Potter who flicked his wand and cleaned them both, and he was still eyeing Draco when they both readjusted their robes.

“Hey, Draco,” he said, and the blond’s pulse raced. “Why haven't we actually shagged, yet?”

Draco feigned ignorance. “What have we been doing up until now, then?”

Harry tilted his head a bit. “It's still sex, I guess, but why haven't we  _ had  _ sex? Have you ever...?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, faintly uncomfortable. “But, despite my need to always be right, I like your views on sex—that it should be making love, not just fucking, and that it should be with someone you care deeply about. I don't regret my first time with penetrative sex, but I wish it had been with someone, I suppose, who understood how valuable this was to me. I didn't want to come off as too sentimental, but it  _ mattered  _ to me, and not to them, and I guess si regret that part a little bit.”

Potter watched him. “Have you ever fallen in love?”

Draco began walking, and Potter fell in step beside him.

“I don't like that term. ‘Falling in love.’ That implies that there's a bottom somewhere, some destination. But, as far as I'm aware, you just keep falling further and further. It's terrifying.”

Harry looked shocked. “You—who do you love?”

Draco sniffed. “I never said I was in love.”

“But you... you sound like-”

“Your hair is a right mess, Potter,” Draco interrupted.

Potter scowled at him. “Isn't it always?”

Draco frowned at him. “Why are you angry?”

“Because, just when I think we're getting closer and opening up, you go and act like we aren't even friends. It makes me feel like shit, Malfoy. What is it I'm doing?”

Ah, and so we're back to Malfoy.

Draco sighed, stepping up to Potter and running his hands through the slightly shorter boy’s hair. He tugged the longer pieces to frame his face and the shorter pieces behind his ears, mildly bothered by the glasses in the way, but also finding that somewhat endearing.

“Harry,” he sighed in a world-weary way, “even your flaws are all fairly attractive. It's not you, I'm just prone to getting in a strop every once in a while. I hope you can look past it, eventually, if I make an honest effort to be less fickle.”

“Alright. I want to.”

Harry looked at him, eyes wide and open and too warm, so Draco slid his hands from Potter’s shoulders and to his cheeks, which he squished.

“Say that again,” he directed.

“Al’ight, I vant to,” Harry repeated, lips puckered ridiculously.

Draco smirked. “Hot,” he said.

Harry abruptly leaned in and kissed him chastely on the mouth before pulling back and grinning himself at the surprised look on Draco’s face.

“I want us to.”

“What?”

“I want you to be my first. In a penetrative sense.”

Draco blinked. “Who will be doing the penetrating, exactly?”

“We can take turns, can't we?”

“If you can bear to keep me around long enough to try, I suppose we could.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Between the last few weeks and today, when have I given you the impression I don't want you around?”

When Draco opened his smart mouth to reply, Harry cut him off with a roll of his bright eyes.

“Tonight?” he asked, suddenly shy. “I know you'll treat me like this matters. I trust you.”

Draco's heart fluttered dangerously.

Harry seemed to have similar thoughts. “I've butterflies in my stomach already,” he mumbled, embarrassed.

Draco pecked him on the nose. “Devour them,” he said simply, and Harry laughed. “Tonight it is. Would you like... me to woo you, again?” Draco offered stiltedly, not wanting to come on too strong but also wanting this to be special for Harry.

Harry smiled widely. “If you want, but you would be enough on your own. You're the one who likes grand gestures, supposedly.”

“I do,” Draco agreed shamelessly. “I think they're romantic.”

Harry nodded a bit. “In that case, come to my room, instead. Jameson is away this summer, so we’ll have it to ourselves.”

Draco raised his eyebrows. “I thought you wanted me to romance  _ you _ .”

“You already have,” Harry said casually, obviously referring to the roses and moonlight and candles, but Draco felt his heart flutter again, anyway. “I want to do this for you.”

“That's not how it works.”

“Fine, it'll make  _ me  _ feel better, and this is all about me, really,” he insisted, raising an eyebrow in a clear imitation of the blond.

Draco stared at him before smirking. “You're learning well. I'll see you this evening?” he asked, slowly disentangling himself from Potter, their hands sliding against each other as they parted.

“Eight. Don't be late.”

“Can I be early?” Draco asked, just to be difficult, and Potter tugged on his hands, pulling him close again. Draco thought he was going to kiss him, but Potter just leaned into him, breathing deeply.

“Any other time, I would say yes, but I'm going to need time to prepare, so I'm going to have to say no.”

“I can help you prepare,” Draco purred, nosing into the hair on the top of Potter’s head.

Harry nipped at his neck. “Don't tempt me.”

“What am I here for if not to tempt?” Draco pondered lightly, biting his lip when Harry began to nibble. “Are you trying to mark me?” he asked, amused.

Harry hummed and then suckwd harshly. It stung a bit, but Draco, oddly enough, didn't mind it.

He turned away, bearing more of his skin, and Harry licked over the sore spot before lightly kissing up the blond’s neck. 

Draco heard someone coming down the hall and quickly shoved Harry away just as Finnegan came down the hallway, eyeing them suspiciously.

“Harry,” he greeted slowly. “Malfoy,” he said more slowly. He raised an eyebrow. “Spent the night with someone?”

Draco slapped a hand to his neck, over the love bite.

“Maybe you'll be less tetchy,” he sneered, striding passed.

Draco and Harry both met eyes before they cracked up, laughing.

Harry sobered quickly. “Should I be offended?”

“What?”

“You pushed me away mighty quick.”

Draco frowned. “I thought that was what you wanted?”

Harry blinked at him. “I'm not ashamed of you,” he said. “I don't care if we're seen together.”

“You're not worried about people jumping to conclusions?”

“More like, used to it.”

“So you’re saying you  _ won’t  _ mind when people say we’re dating.”

“Want to?”

“What?”

“Date.”

Draco blinked, eyes wide. “Sure,” he said.

Harry smiled widely and leaned up to kiss him. “Great,” he murmured afterwards, brushing Draco’s hair aside. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

Draco looked at him quizzically.

“If I’ve liked you for a while,” Harry said, and Draco’s heart hopped, skipped, and jumped, “and you’ve liked me for a while... then I was right all along. You shagged me because you have feelings for me!”

Draco groaned, rolling eyes heavenward. “You’re still on about that?”

“You’re just upset because I’m right.”

Draco smirked, tugging Harry closer. “I wouldn’t call it upset.”

“No!” A new voice suddenly yelled, an unfamiliar Fifth Year walking in, face flushed. “No more tugging! I’ve been waiting nearly half an hour to walk by when you two finally left, but it just keeps going! Either one of you goes, or just both go! Forget eight, just go at it now! You clearly need it!” he panted, red flush even heavier from all the yelling. “ _ Godric _ ,” he grumbled before finally walking passed them and continuing down the hall.

Draco and Harry looked at each other.

“Still on for eight?”

“I could be persuaded to go now.”

Harry grinned, holding out a hand. “Let’s go, then.”

**The End.**


End file.
